In Truths that She Learned, in Times that He Cried
by imnotmadonna
Summary: With the end of an era comes the beginning of a new life for many in the streets of New York City in 1989. Noah Green is about to embark on a road to self discovery through the help of his favorite NYU professor and his drag queen girlfriend.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own RENT (and as of right now, I can barely pay it!) RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson. Only the OCs belong to me. **

**Authors note: Thank you to my fantastic and fierce beta i'like'cheetos for the feedback and help. **

Chapter 1: Pilot

**Tuesday, January 5th, 1989, 9am EST**

NOAH'S POV:

Today is Tuesday, January 5th, 1989. For most of my fellow classmates this is a dreaded Tuesday. I look around to see students skiddishly flipping through their binders and notes looking for the paper they were assigned to write over the Christmas break, groans and yawns coming from all directions when it hits them that they are back to their daily grind. The first day back to class after a long break is hard for them. For me, it is paradise. I look down at my own binder, neat, with my paper stapled together in the front pocket. Professor Collins is now five minutes late, as usual. I turn my head to the door, a premonition that I would see him in the tiny window with his white cap on. I was right. The door swung open and he made his way through the aisles of chairs, putting his messenger bag behind his desk before he walked up to his podium, a warm smile on his face. My classmates seemed to ignore him, complaining about having to do homework over the break in theatrical whispers. Some tried to keep their heads up, simply hung over from all the eggnog they had been chugging the past few weeks.

"Alright guys, you can proceed with your whining after you sit through an hour and a half of my lecture on postmodernism," Professor Collins smirked. In the next few seconds the class began to settle down.

"It's nice to see all your smiling faces again and I hope you all had a wonderful break. This semester, as I just said, we are going to tackle postmodernism as shown in film. You can turn your papers in after class if any of you actually wrote them."

His tone was always slightly amused and sarcastic when he spoke before lecture. Some of the students thought it was his way of reaching out to our generation by speaking in our language. I just suspected he never wanted to be anything more than casual. Professor Collins was my favorite teacher. He was relatable, and his class was an excellent distraction from the rest of my education. He wasn't a teacher just after tenure. Teaching was something I could tell he was passionate about. It didn't just pay the rent for him. As Professor Collins proceeded with his lecture I hung on his every word. I always sat in the front row, becoming immersed in the knowledge I was offered. His intelligence blew my mind at times but being my favorite teacher and teaching my favorite class, I knew I would be invested in processing the new information later when I was studying. Computer Age Philosophy pushed me in a good way. The other students didn't interact with me much. Most of them only concerned with the piece of paper that said they were graduated. A C-average was all they wanted. But it wasn't my place to judge. Sometimes I wondered if the only reason I cared so much was because I didn't really have a life outside of this class. Not the life I wanted to have at least. Burying myself in my studies was the only thing distracting me from the reality I was faced with daily; the fact that I was a big fish in a small pond, the fact that I wanted something beyond my current restrictions of going to church every Sunday to listen to my pastor dad preach things I couldn't disagree with more, going to a high school where everyone was so caught up in keeping up appearances to win homecoming king or queen, and going home to a family that would probably hate me if they knew that I was gay.

Starting my mornings at NYU was a way for me to get away from the rest of my life. I am getting an early taste of college. Being a junior in high school and going to NYU at the same time showed me how much I was missing out on by sticking to a conventional life. The topics Professor Collins explored in class were either unheard of or unspeakable at home. Critical thinking, anarchy, homosexuality, and sexuality in general were new concepts that were ok for me to think about. New were concepts brought to my attention through sitting in this desk every weekday at 9 am. Despite all the bullshit conservative and religious indoctrination shoved down my throat every waking moment I was at home, I found myself thanking God that Christmas break was over and that I was back in this classroom where I belonged.

Class was over before I knew it. After Professor Collins stepped down from his podium, most of the class filed out quickly, not turning in their papers out of protest of having to write over the break, or because they were just plain lazy. A few thin papers were thrown onto his desk. I gathered my things and set my paper down with the few already there. As I turned the doorknob to leave I heard Professor Collins' voice call my name.

"Noah,"

"Yes Professor Collins?" I turned to him, wondering why he needed to talk to me.

"It seems as though you were the only student who found it necessary to write the required amount of pages, let alone write a paper at all." He chuckled.

"Well, that was what you wanted. I hope you enjoy the paper. I enjoyed writing it," I said earnestly as I turned back to the door.

"I'm sure I will! I hope you enjoy getting full credit while the rest of the class flunks this assignment" He said with feigned curtness.

"You have a strange sense of humor, Professor C." I shrugged as I walked out the door.

I entered the street outside, noticing that I would probably be late to my first class at East Side Community High School. It was hard for me not to linger in the classroom with Professor Collins. A part of me wanted to stay even longer. I wanted to talk to him about things I didn't want to share with anyone else in the world. I wanted to know if my discontent with my sheltered life was unwarranted. If I should just be lucky if I had a family or a God to believe in at all. I wanted to finally share with someone how much I loved boys, and not girls, and ask him why people like my parents would think that was so wrong. The weight of all of my anxieties was hard to bare alone and I knew that Professor Collins, with all of his insight on the way humans work and think would understand. I had never had that kind of connection with someone before. But he was the one adult I would go to if I ever had the courage to say any of this out loud. I crossed the street and snapped out of my thoughts. It was time to be good, Christian, straight Noah Green for the rest of the day.

**Tuesday, January 5th, 1989 5pm EST**

COLLIN'S POV:

As I walked through the door to my apartment I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. The first day back from break was really, really long. Apathy was running rampant at NYU which was to be expected considering it was cold outside and most of my students were still in Christmas spirit comas. Most of them were on the path to graduation and planned to breeze right through their last semester, not giving much thought to the subjects they were studying, especially mine. As hard as I tried to get through to those kids they couldn't care less. If I was paying thousands of dollars to take a class at a prestigious school I know I would listen. I stepped inside and saw Angel, my angel, heating up some cocoa on the stove. The smell wafted through the chilly air and I kissed her before I melted into the couch.

"Hey honey! How was the first day back?" Angel's warm smile was enough to melt away all the stress of the day. Angel smiled with her eyes. It was bright and genuine. At least somebody cared about what I had to say.

"Ah Ang it was alright. But the best part was when I walked back up to the apartment and saw you," I grinned.

"Finish that cocoa so you can come and curl up with me," I added. "Where did you get that cocoa anyway? Did you go drumming today, baby?"

"No way! I love the snow but it was way too cold out. Roger came over to give it to us. It's our belated Christmas gift."

"Well we are going to have to thank him later. We are still meeting everyone at the Life tomorrow, right?"

"Mhmm!"

Angel continued stirring, humming Silent Night just loud enough for me to hear. She poured the cocoa into two recycled jars and walked over to the couch, placing the cocoa on our uneven coffee table before she joined me.

Angel folded her legs and laid her head in my lap. She was in boy drag today. Comfy blue sweats and one of my old white t-shirts. I stroked her short hair and let the relaxation sink in, a direct contrast to what the rest of the day was like.

"Mmm let's just stay here forever," she purred. She loved it when I touched her hair.

"I'd love to," I replied "As long as you don't mind me grading papers in the process."

"Grading papers?" she whined playfully, "But honey you just got home! Give yourself a little break. You do too many things and you're gonna get an ulcer." I kissed her forehead before pulling a tiny stack of papers out of my bag.

"Don't worry baby I only have a few. None of my students really invested any time into this. Most of them didn't do it at all." I flipped through the papers while rolling my eyes. I had six papers out of 28 students. It was typical after a break, but that made it even worse.

"What about that one?" Angel pointed to Noah's paper.

"Oh, that's Noah's. He is a dual enrollment student from East Side High. He always does well. The kid listens a lot harder than everyone else, meaning he actually gives a damn. He wrote even more than the required amount. Overachiever that one. Kinda quiet. But he is a good kid."

Angel picked up his paper and started reading it. She was rarely around when I graded papers. I saw her eyes dance around the page. She read fast, but she processed things pretty well. I could get used to Angel helping me grade. I would never get stressed out with her curled up beside me. She was a constant light I would enjoy while trudging through the more tedious work in academia.

"Wow, looks like this kid actually knows what he is talking about. He writes a little like you, Collins. Maybe a prodigy in the works?" She smiled, looking up at me.

"I don't know about that. He is extraordinarily bright though. Less outgoing than me from what I can tell. To be honest, I don't know much about him. He is quieter than any sixteen year old boy I've ever met. Skinny white boy that looks sort of like Mark with brown hair. I get glimpses of him through his papers. I know he takes a lot of time on them. Sometimes he sends me second and third drafts before the assignment is due."

"Second and third drafts?" Angel said, "I was an okay student but I never did anything like that." She sat the paper back on the table and looked at me as I wrote in red pen on the work of another student.

"Yeah he is a planner alright. I was the same way, but I always seemed to piss my teachers off. I would never write the way my teachers wanted me to because I could always tie any assignment back to the concept of anarchy." Angel giggled and sat up.

"If I could just get Noah to come out of his shell a little bit I think he could really be something. He just needs to find his own voice, that's all. But you, Ang, don't have any problem with being you. You might be a good influence on him."

"Yeah, I could be the good influence to your bad influence," Angel smirked, tugging at my shirt.

"Oh so now I'm a bad influence?"

"Yeah, maybe a little," Angel pecked me on the cheek and I picked her up, running her toward the bedroom.

"Let me influence you a little bit more then," I said, lowering my voice. I was complimented with my Angel's joyful squeals as I tossed her onto the bed. My happiness was guaranteed until tomorrow morning.

**Wednesday, January 6th, 1989 3pm EST**

Noah's POV:

Walking through the noise of the East Village after a long day in the trenches of high school was always very therapeutic. I am surrounded by noise, lights, and people. Professor Collins' class spoiled me in the morning. Today was an easy day, not much information to take in. Most of the time was spent with Professor C's improvised speech about how those of us who didn't write the paper were only disappointing ourselves, something I tuned out while I looked over my graded paper. As promised, I got full credit, still, the note at the end of my paper surprised me, wishing I would have simply gotten a lower grade.

_Noah, where are you? You did the research, you do the work. Now I want you to find a voice. Your voice. A paper is only as strong as the person who writes it. _

The words were still circling around in my head. I tried to figure out what he meant. It was easy for me to slip into paranoia. I used distractions like school and my walks to build a wall between who I am and who I am expected to be. I know who I am, but being brave enough to express it is an entirely different story. Instead of wishing for blissful ignorance, or to become the man my family wants me to be, I slip into my distractions, and put off being authentically me for another day. And another. And another. But after reading the note at the end of my paper, I wondered if Professor Collins could see right through me. Did he know that I was gay? Was my façade as invincible as I thought? If he is pushing me to be more expressive, why?

I let this big 'why me' consume my thoughts as I sifted through the background noise of the city until I saw her. Or _him_. My eyes attracted the smile of a drag queen drumming on the street. I saw this drummer every day, walking by the pulsing beats he played on a plastic pickle tub. Today was something different, enough to pull me out of the dreamy state I often found myself in when I walked by. Today he was wearing a skirt, heels, and a short black wig, not to mention the makeup caked onto his face. I drew nearer instead of passing him by. I was being tugged by something inside me, even as I looked around to make sure nobody I knew saw me. My fear as I approached was dizzying, but my intuition was winning the battle. Curiosity got the best of me. At that moment, I understood that this was what I wanted to be, who I could be if I took Professor Collins' advice to heart.

"Uh, here," I said. I dug a few dollars out of my pocket and let them drop on top of the tub. The drag queen looked up to me, smiling.

"Thanks dear!" She, or he, stopped drumming for a moment to pocket the money. "That is probably going to be my most generous donation today."

"Oh, well, no problem" I shrugged. What was I doing? Why was I still there? I urged myself to keep moving, to pass the drummer and move on. But I stayed planted firmly in front of him. Several moments of awkward silence followed until he thought up something to say.

"So, I see you pass me all the time. Why tip me today? Not that I'm ungrateful or anything…"

"I just liked your outfit," I said. I shrugged again. "I mean, it's really different, you know?"

"I'm Angel." He said, extending his hand.

"Noah." I replied. I slipped into a nervous smile as I shook his hand.

Angel's hands felt like silk. His nails were painted a neon blue color unlike anything I'd ever seen. Did I fear the difference in us, or the sameness? Through the lashes and the eye makeup, I could see his eyes; a deep, compassionate brown.

"It's nice to meet you, Angel."

I said as I finally made my legs walk ahead. I practically flew home. Even with my heart pumping out of my chest in fear and revelation, I quickly and compulsively unlocked the door and headed into my parents' room. Nobody would be home until late. My little brother Moses was sleeping over at a friend's house and mom and dad wouldn't be home from the adult church retreat until late tonight. I swung open the door to my mother's closet and pulled out the red dress she wore in our Christmas pictures. What was I _doing? _I undid my belt and pulled off my pants and shirt and put on the dress. I walked over to the long mirror on the opposite side of the bedroom. Once again I could only stand still, dumbfounded at what I saw. The dress fit me like a glove, except for the loose fitting part around my chest. I crossed my legs and put my hands on my hips, a natural reaction to my new state. I thought back to Angel, his kindness- his smile. I thought back to the feeling I had when I saw him and realized that it was the same feeling I was having now. It was a feeling new and foreign to me. I felt free. I felt right. I felt like I belonged in this dress somehow. I took a deep breath. I was a lanky, teenage boy. I was a boy in a dress. And this was exactly what I wanted to be.

**Thank you for reading chapter one! Please review if you like what you read, or if you don't, or if you just really really like puppies. **


	2. Don't be a Drag

**DISCLAIMER: Hello, my name is Captain Obvious, and I do not own RENT! **

Friday, January 22nd, 1989 3pm EST

Noah's POV:

It has been two weeks and two days since my first encounter with Angel, the drummer in drag. I've kept count of the days, and each day since I have come home to put on the same red dress from my mother's closet. It was something of second nature; that I was sure of since my first time with it on. It was something I had known to do my whole life, with several factors that kept me from doing it. But now that my deepest secret was unlocked, there was no way I could stop. I continue walking down the street. As soon as my final bell rang I was out of the doors of my high school yet again. I continued to tip Angel just as generously every day since we first spoke. I walked by the alley at the end of Avenue B and dropped three dollars on top of the tub. A smile emerged on Angel's cheeks and we made eye contact for a brief moment.

"Hello Noah!" Her voice rang as I walked away. I waved slightly as I made my way down the street. I had no time to chat today as I usually did. Today was different. Today I took my new image a step further. I made it home in record time. I did my usual scan to make sure my little brother wasn't home for what reason. He wasn't, and neither were mom and dad. I should have known. Moses, unlike myself, had a social life. At the age of nine he had more of a social life than I did. I rolled my eyes and moved on to my parent's room. I didn't have time to dwell on the thought. I dug the red dress out behind my mom's wardrobe and slipped it on for what seemed to be the millionth time. But every time felt the same. The same electric warmth came over me as I stared myself down in the long mirror. It was exciting, but it felt like home. I had fallen into this routine of coming home and wearing the dress. But my experimentation had progressed.

I read an article a week or so ago about these drag competitions in Harlem, what they called "Drag Balls". Each performer would walk in their outfit and get judged based on attitude and creativity. These were men like me, and had turned what people like my parents called "perversion" into an art form. The accolades came from other men like them, like us, but they were accolades nonetheless. The queens had picked out names for themselves other than their boy names. Names like Pepper LaBeija, Venus Xtravaganza, and Dorian Corey. Their names were the embodiment of glamour. The embodiment of rich, powerful women. And I guess a part of me wants to be that, too. A part of me _is_ that, and that part of me had been denied for too many years. Reading through the names of these drag queens made me wonder if Angel's name was a real name or a drag name. All of these thoughts were scattered across my brain as I looked at myself in the mirror.

I had picked out a name for myself last week. It came to me during one of Professor Collins' seminars in class. Over the course of these past two weeks, we had been discussing postmodernism and all of the different elements that made up people and their communities. Professor C. was lecturing on the fluidity of one's own identity and showed us a picture of the Kinsey Scale. He told us that a biologist named Alfred Kinsey had created a scale to determine someone's sexual identity, 1. being completely heterosexual and 10. being completely homosexual. It was very taboo to talk about sex in class, but not for professor Collins. While the rest of the class seemed disinterested as always, or rather more interested in their own inner monologues, a light had gone off in my head that day. I decided that if I was in one of those Drag Balls, I would call myself Kinsey Scale. I kept this name to myself, as I had never gone out of the house in the dress, but one day I hoped someone else would be able to call me by that name. That someone would recognize what I was doing without having something negative to say. Kinsey Scale was my armor, my mask. Today was the day I would go out into the world and make my debut as Kinsey. When I was Kinsey, nobody would have to know that behind it all, I was Noah.

I took mom's wig from the Christmas pageant, in which she was the Virgin Mary, and put it on over my hair. The wig was long, brown, and straight. almost stringy. Synthetic. I brushed it out with my fingers running through each strand. I had built up an entire outfit in two weeks' time. I buckled up my mom's chunky black heels. They probably weren't as glamorous as something that Venus Xtravananza or the other queens would wear, but they were what I had managed to learn to walk in. I stumbled in the heels and pulled out my mom's makeup box once I was in the bathroom. My mom wore subtle makeup. I found a tube of dark red lipstick and put it on over some foundation. I had no real idea what I was doing. I rubbed some green eye shadow on my finger and across my eyelid. At some point, I told myself, I would have to learn how to put on makeup for real. I had gotten most of my ideas from watching Dynasty and paying attention to what the women looked like. They looked more posh than I, but I told myself it was an honest effort anyway. I puckered up my cheeks to stroke a brush of light pink blush over the apples. I looked like a clown, but a girl clown. My svelte body, my delicate hands, and my round face, all of the feminine features my father resented in me were working to my advantage.

I stood in the mirror for a good ten minutes, trying to touch up anything that I thought might look blotchy or botched. I had spent more hours in the mirror over these two weeks than I had in my entire life. But I was sure nobody from my school or church could recognize me now, and even if they could, they would never dare to think that good sweet Noah Green would do anything like this. That was my number one fear. But with my makeup, my dress, and my new name to hide behind, that fear became moot. I looked over at the electric clock radio. It was 4:45 now. I took a deep, shaky breath but tried to hold my head high in confidence. I had worked myself up for this for several days now, and it was time to go out. I opened the door of the house and took in the air of my neighborhood street. Where was I going, I didn't know, but secretly I hoped I would see Angel. I had so many questions. I wanted her to see the new side of me.

Friday, January 22nd, 1989 4:30pm EST

Collin's POV:

"Are you ready honey?" Angel's touch woke me up from my light sleep on the couch. I had sunken in so deep that I had made a dent in the cushions. I looked over at the clock in the kitchen. Only twenty minutes had passed since I had arrived home, completely and utterly exhausted. I had given back another batch of essays for my A.M. Computer Age Philosophy class. More students had turned in their work this time, so that was an improvement. I was ready for it to be Friday. I had an entire weekend of relaxation ahead of me with Angel and our friends. No papers to grade, no meetings to attend. Nothing to occupy my mind with for the next two days except for taking in the beauty that is my lover. I looked Angel up and down. She was incredibly proud to model her new outfit for me.

"Mmm, Ang you really outdid yourself this time" I said, smiling lazily. She jumped up and down, her shoulders going up as she clapped quickly.

"I'm glad you like it! I made it from some old curtains I found in a giveaway pile by the apartments on Avenue A," she said. It had been a long time since she made an outfit of this caliber. The whole dress looked to be one solid piece. It was deep purple, knee high, and off the shoulder. Angel rarely got cold. Must have been the warm blooded Latina in her. There was a down flowing collar on one side, made out of the same rough material. Angel's legs were clad in black tights and a sleek black stiletto heel and she sported her classic black bob wig. My mind drifted off into how I would go about unwrapping her later tonight, but Angel's touch yet again brought me back to Earth.

"Come on, we've got to leave for the loft now or we're gonna be late." Angel said gently as she grabbed my hand. We walked out together to meet up with Mark, Roger, Mimi, Maureen and Joanne at the loft so we could all go out to eat together. With mine and Joanne's always busy schedules and Mark's brand new Buzzline gig, we don't have as many opportunities to all go out to eat at the Life as we would like. That is why she made it a point to look especially gorgeous tonight.

5:15 PM, EST

Noah's POV:

I have never felt so proud of myself, roaming around aimlessly around the city is typically no big feat for me. Walking had been my therapy, my thinking time, since I was old enough to go out by myself. But in a dress, walking these streets is completely different. And here I am, possibly looking unbelievably ridiculous to some, but beautiful to me. I thought maybe I could catch a bus to Harlem, its not that far. Maybe an hour away. Manhattan has a certain charm to it, and it has people just like me. People I'd like to talk to and watch. I had brought a purse with me, Mom's purse, just in case it got late and I needed to change before I headed home. I didn't have anything planned out. But this experience was good enough. I had no idea what I would do if my parents ever found out about this. That was the part I probably should have planned ahead, but in this moment there is nothing more I need than what I have right now. This is what needed to happen. I walked down Avenue B, passing the Life Café. Sometimes I went in there to study and drink tea after school, but I haven't done that in ages. Just as I am about to turn around I feel a hand touch my shoulder. I turn around swiftly. A warm, large hand is attached to my shoulder with no sign coming off.

"Hey baby, you lookin for a good time?" A gruff, deep voice whispers so close to me that I can feel the wet hot breath drench my ear.

"Oh, um, no. I think you have the wrong idea," I say nervously, trying to escape the mans hands and mouth. The man was skinny, bald, and covered in tattoos. He is pale white wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. A skinhead.

"Oh yeah? Aren't you faggots always up for a good ass pounding?"

"I-I'm not a faggot!" I say, trying to pull away from him with more force this time. This was something I had not seen coming. For some stupid reason I thought that I would be left alone if I just kept to myself. Nobody on the street had ever bothered me before. New clothes. New situation. I no longer had the luxury of being just another wallflower blending into the scenery of the city. The man grabbed my purse, pulling my face back into his chest.

"Hey, get away from me!" I scream.

"What? You beg for attention in that slutty outfit of yours and you can't take a little joke tranny?" He said, stroking my thigh. I shiver. One of those full body shivers you get when you miss a step on the stairs or at the first gust of winter wind. My entire body is filled with fear. I am helpless. I try to shake away with all of my might but my skinny harasser has more strength than his body lets on.

"Help!" I manage to squeal before he grabs me by the back of my wig. He grabs deep enough so he is now pulling my real hair. He gags me with his hand over my mouth.

"Now why would you want to go and do that? It's not gonna hurt that bad."

I feel him press himself into my crotch. Everything around me becomes static, background noise, background scenery. I'm frozen in body and mind.

"Let's go tranny, you're coming with me."

"The hell she is!" Suddenly a familiar voice breaks through the static. I hear a large thud and notice a black stiletto heel on the ground. The skinhead loosens his grip on me and rubs the back of his bald head. I see blood in his palms as he pulls his hand away. I run to the other side of the street behind Angel. She must have thrown her shoe at him!

"What the fuck?!" The skinhead said, turning around to face us.

"Who do you think you are, freak?" He said, approaching Angel.

"Oh hell no you don't! Don't you dare come near her!" Then I see him. Professor Collins pops up from beside Angel, blocking my assailant from touching either one of us.

"Who the fuck do you think YOU are? You dirty skinhead! You aren't going to have any luck messing with people on this avenue. You must have lost your way. You're in the East Village. Ignorant bigot skinheads aren't allowed in this neighborhood. You best try your luck in the backwoods you must have come out of. Go home!" Angel said, her voice deeper and tougher than I ever thought imaginable.

The skinhead took one look at Collins and Angel, then looked back to his hand. He must have heard her loud and clear, because he began running ahead in the opposite direction. The thick tension went on for a few seconds before it dissolved.

"Are you ok, honey?" Angel turned to ask me. I nodded, not saying anything, shock still coursing through my veins. I had hoped to run into her tonight, but could not be happier than I am now that she came at the exact right time. I look back up to Professor Collins. I am sure neither of them recognize me like this.

"Did they get anything?" Professor Collins' asked, his hand wrapped around Angels waist. I tried to mask my shock. How did they know each other? I looked down to my mom's purse. It seemed to still be full.

"No, I don't think that it was this stuff he was wanting." I muttered, my cheeks filling with blood.

"Thank you so much Professor Collins," I said, lifting my head up. It wasn't a second after the gratitude had left my mouth that I realized what I had just said. I had just blown my cover. I wasn't expecting to run into him of all people. Shit!

"Excuse me?" Collins said. He looked at my face for a few seconds.

"Oh nothing," I said. I wanted to walk away, but the fear of running into more trouble alone stopped me from doing anything.

"Did you just call me Professor Collins?"

"Yes. Um, hi," I said smiling nervously.

"Noah? Noah Green?" Professor Collins' eyes widened at his own revelation. He took a step toward me, letting go of Angel for a moment.

"Yeah, yeah it's me Professor C," I straightened up my wig again, the back of my head aching from being gripped so hard.

"What's going on here?" Angel said, hopping over to us after grabbing her stiletto off the sidewalk.

"Angel, I want you to meet one of my students, this is Noah." My professor smiled, his tone sounding more surprised since matter of fact.

"Hi Noah! How are you babe? You're looking particularly fierce!" Angel said giddily, realizing who I was.

"Wait, wait, you two know each other?" Professor Collins questioned. I notice a small group of people surrounding us, they looked like they were with Professor Collins and Angel. I am still puzzled as to why they were together in the first place.

"Yeah! Sweet Noah always gives me a nice tip," Angel smiled. "But I have never seen him in drag before! Why didn't you tell me you dressed up?" Angel stood by Professor Collins. They both looked at me with the most incredible looks of shock on their faces.

"I don't- well... I don't really." I try to say. "This is my first time out like- well, like this," I smoothed out my dress, looking around. The tension I thought dissolved awhile ago was still there.

"How do you know Professor Collins?" I said. Angel giggled and grabbed his waist before she responded.

"Professor Collins, or Collins, rather, is my boyfriend." Angel smiled. Her eyes kind and sympathetic as always. They affirmed my safety. Angel was my friend. And my teachers boyfriend. What a trip.

"When did you start doing drag?" Angel asked before I could respond to the new news of her relationship with Professor C.

"Oh, well, there was this thing Professor Collins wrote on my paper about finding myself, and then I saw you drumming in drag, and then I, um, well. It's a long story." I took a deep breath. I didn't feel comfortable answering the question at length in the middle of the street. There was so much I needed to process.

"Well do you have time?" Angel said pulling me between her and my professor; the only two adults that I ever felt like I could put any trust in. I didn't have anything to lose, and I sure as hell wasn't walking around alone again tonight.

"I suppose I do," I said timidly.

"Well then don't you think it would be good if we let Noah come along with us?" Angel looked to Professor Collins. He nodded, smiling.

"I don't see why not. Come on Noah, we're going into the Life. You look like you could use something to eat and drink to calm you down. We will introduce you to our friends."

"Ok, that sounds nice. Thanks again." I said as I followed them back to the group of people and into the café.

"By the way, I'm not professor or sir outside of the classroom. Friends call me Collins, just Collins." He smiled down at me. Even in my stubby heels Collins towered over me.

"Alright then Proff- I mean, Collins. Friend's call me Kinsey, Kinsey Scale," I couldn't help but laugh at the serendipity of my situation. We waited to be seated. There were so many questions I had for Collins and Angel. How did they live life in the face of such adversity? How did their parents feel about them being gay? About Angel's cross dressing? There was one thing I was sure of. I was me. And Professor Collins and Angel were ok with me, and I was starting to be ok with me, too.

**Author's note: Thank you for reading and thanks again to my wonderful beta, i'like'cheetos! If you liked what you read please review! No day but today! I will have chapter three up shortly. How do you think Noah will like the Bohos, and vice versa! **


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